... None ever saw her by night. Her hour is the fulness of the sun's
flood-tide: she comes in the dead hush and white flame of windless
noons,--when colors appear to take a very unearthliness of
intensity,--when even the flash of some colibri, bosomed with living
fire, shooting hither and thither among the grenadilla blossoms, seemeth
a spectral happening because of the great green trance of the land....
Mostly she haunts the mountain roads, winding from plantation to
plantation, from hamlet to hamlet,--sometimes dominating huge sweeps of
azure sea, sometimes shadowed by mornes deep-wooded to the sky. But
close to the great towns she sometimes walks: she has been seen at
mid-day upon the highway which overlooks the Cemetery of the Anchorage,
behind the cathedral of St. Pierre.... A black Woman, simply clad, of
lofty stature and strange beauty, silently standing in the light,
_keeping her eyes fixed upon the Sun!_...